The Tale of Samuel Evans
by Cloth
Summary: A tale of a young boy whose life takes a step to peculiar, as the consequences of his actions eventually catch up to him.


**The Peninsula of Calgary**

 **Samuel Evans** crouched his back, while at the same time taking some backing from the wall with his hand. The crag was wet, slippery and partly covered with a thin layer of slimy moss. Everything reeked of salt water and rotten fish. He scooped some water with his thin hand, from between of his wellingtons. The murky water almost looked clear on his palm from such close distance. With the tips of his lips, he sipped.

 _Estuary._

"A promising spot, mister Dunmore." He said to the large man behind him.

"Marvelous! Shall we?" The man replied with a deep voice, lifting the hatch of his storm lantern, that was held on his other hand.

" _Stellario._ " Samuel casted raising his orange stump of a wand at the lantern's outlet.

From the tip of his wand, a small sphere of dim light popped out. It buzzed and wandered around. Dunmore took the lantern closer to the ball, and as it entered the opening, he quickly shut the exit and latched the hatch. The ball started bouncing around the walls and as if it got angry, been tricked to go inside, with every hit on the lantern's surface the next became harder and faster. As the speed grew, so did its luminosity. It wasn't long before the orb was too fast for the naked eye and the lantern illuminated the damp walls with the blinding power of the sun.

Samuel squinted his eyes from the luminous pain, eventually adjusting to the blinding whiteness, letting one tear to drop onto his cheek. His oily black hair glistened in the lanterns light, as did his greasy skin. He wore shabby old jeans and a yellowish raincoat. Both bought from a second-hand store years ago. Leakiness being the testament to it. He had that awfully ordinary looking 16-year-old figure, the kind that nobody would pay attention to. The only real comments that he ever got, were from his thick dark eyebrows and round shaped face. Humorous to many, he presumed.

Samuel glanced behind, still seeing the mouth of the cave. It started to look like a distant star in the night sky. Listening to the thunder of the waves, that resonated through the cavern walls, he dreamed of the day's end. He had started to grow weary of the to and fro between caverns without results.

 _Nothing but a waste of time._

And to top it all, there was mister Dunmore. The old man's energetic attitude did not help. He could have alone perused every cave, through and through, from the south to the northern side of the peninsula. Samuel sighed, thinking that the only thing stopping the man was his stalling attitude. It was partly true.

"You know, isn't _lumos_ enough? Isn't it tiresome to carry that around?" Samuel rambled, taking careful steps forward. His arm was fully extended, pointing into the pit's darkness, holding tightly to his wand. "It was just luck, this time. The twinklefly going inside. Didn't have to summon twenty of them, this time."

 **Lewis Dunmore's** sight stopped for a moment at him before returning to scan the walls. He was a large man, with exceedingly small wine-red vest on top of his sphere like stomach, that didn't really compliment the man. On his nose, he had tiny oval glasses, and behind them glimmered brisk leer. The scruffy beard that he had, looked like that it had descended from his head to cheeks as time had passed. Despite his earnest demeanor, the man held a warm and friendly aura.

"Better that one keeps the light and the other is ready for shenanigans, laddy. Spellcasting is cheaper than bullets. Besides you know I've got no wand… at the moment" He stated calmly. "Moreover, you've had lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts, haven't you? And some good skill with Care of Magical critters… creatures, whatever? My point being you've got enough experience."

Samuel had only half an ear open for Dunmore's talks. The water started to reach his calves, and the sandy bed turned to slippery field of cobbles. The storm lantern's light pushed back the tar dark veil, as they went on. The ever-shrinking cavern didn't get any cozier, neither the murky water that the lantern couldn't lighten. Samuel had the constant feeling that something crept beneath the dark surface. Something that was ready to strike and pull him to the depths, if he only let his guard down. In his mind, he tried to recall all the spells and curses, that he knew… remembered… had heard of. Luckily, the constant dampness hadn't ruined his tiny acacia wand yet. It had aborted its operations before in less critical conditions, but for now it worked fine. The pounding of waves had quieted and now only the falling droplets from the roof and the wading of wellingtons synthesized sound in the cavern. He listened, it was almost magical, the droplets hitting the water bed. Quiet, tranquilizing, and calm.

"Damn, damn." Samuel yelped, throwing his palm on his face. "You know what, mister Dunmore?"

"Well?"

"Ouh my god! We should have put the tip of the wand **into** the lantern, before summoning!? A horde of those fucking pellets escaped and mark my words, they'll alarm somebody." Samuel whined dragging his scratched hand across his face.

"We know now. Plus, it doesn't matter if somebody saw us. There are no laws against this. The natural reserve starts from the northern side of Calgary. That is like… a mile away. If some auror passes by we just say… we are just hiking, no, cave exploring!" Dunmore spouted out, with a bit wobblier voice.

"And the auror wouldn't be interested in that rifle? Nor the silver bullets? For self-defense?" Samuel smiled with a grin, pointing the gun that Dunmore carried on his back.

"Precisely. If I'm not allowed to defend myself with a wand, then I'm obligated to use other means of self-guarding. It is the right of every citizen, lad." Dunmore proclaimed with a pious tone.

Samuel knew that debating with the old man got nowhere. Where it got was to Dunmore's zealotry and self-righteous attitude. Stubbornness refined with age and Dunmore was a perfect example of that. Knowing that fighting got nowhere, his temptation to little provocation grew. For the whole day, he had ravaged through caverns, holes and what not. It was only right to have little fun.

"That so? I thought that the Ministry had a reason for confiscating your wand for" self-guarding" for a momentarily penalty period. It wasn't too guarding for others, too?" Samuel smirked with descending voice. He quickly turned his head so that Dunmore couldn't see the growing grin.

The old man's eyes flared up with rage and bitterness. "It was absurdity! Waste, sickening injustice in its purest form! Purest form, I tell you! Harassment of senior citizen! Once again, we saw how taxpayers, entrepreneurs, loyal Brits are treated by the Ministry! Subjugated! I-I-I defended myself against **criminals** , and what do I get!? Harassment! Utter nonsense!" Dunmore shouted, so quickly losing his calm nature. "Utter nonsense! Idiocy! Remember lad, remember how some monkey can steal your livelihood just like that, and if you try to stand up for yourself they'll just take your wand away, and you get branded all over the news."

Samuel just continued forward, looking at the ceiling and trying to not to care so much about incoming lecture. Such nice and quiet sounds were now overruled by Dunmore's thundering voice.

"I'll say this! There is something fundamentally wrong about this country! All kinds of foreign intruders come here to revel and expect for us to pay the bill, and of course we will because nobody wants to be the "racist", and the clowns don't even have a concept of money. Somebody always rescues them from trouble and that's why they have no understanding of manners or responsibility, since they have always gotten away with it. No wonder their country is ruined. I wouldn't be surprised if the politicians were bribed by the rich, so they could get some cheap labor into their stores. And of course, if you say anything against it, the papers are more than happy to brand you as "racist" and whatever supports their twisted agenda." Dunmore ranted, ever so slightly building back his calmer tone. "You know, when you grow up, you'll see how things aren't just so black and white, as media would like you to think! It's like all criticism seems to fade away, and everybody just supposes that papers are unbiased by default?! Even I will be remembered as an unsung hero one day. A man, who dared to say "NO". A man, who dared to stand up for the true Brits. Who dared take action against the trash people that flood here!"

"I see. I don't know if you noticed, but in the morning paper it read that the girl still hasn't woken up. It's supposed to take weeks before her hands and legs are fully healed." Samuel said with a quiet and condemning voice. "The family is said to pray every day around her bed… even the brothers have dropped from school to be with her."

Silence subsided between them. They had stopped. Lantern's light trembled and the shadows on the walls danced to its tune. Dunmore's blue eyes wandered and his small lips curled, as he tried to bury the feeling of shame. Samuel knew he hit a soft spot and felt a twinge of empathy towards the man. Dunmore had never wanted to hurt anyone.

Suddenly the man's eyes fixated back to their original position and he continued with his devout type of speech. "I bear no responsibility. No true Brit would let their lass sleep on their shops floor. My only crime was starting the fire, but it was only to protect myself. They **broke** my **windows first**! What was I supposed to do when the police were too scared to act!?"

Dunmore sighed. He scratched the back of his neck and observed at the lantern. "I've never had anything against anyone but they started and deserved it!"

The old man was too proud to face the music and too old to change, Samuel thought as they continued their journey. Nevertheless, he felt it as a slight victory. For once he had broken Dunmore's defenses, even if it was for just a moment.

The boot chugged water. Samuel thought about if anyone had died to irritation before. He was rather close. Back hurt, hands were numb due to the cold, ankles creaked from continuous stepping on cobblestones, and now his foot was submerged into ice cold water. Dunmore sailed past him caring naught from the deepening water. Samuel closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and thought if sacrificing the dry leg was worth it, if he were to continue.

"Let's get back. There is nothing in there. You said it yourself that during the high tide we must bounce." Samuel announced, now for the first time openly complaining. "It's already 3:20 pm and the water is rising. I'd rather not go to fisticuffs with them when they return… Mister Dunmore!?"

"Just a little while longer, lad. It'd be a waste of dry legs if we were to quit now. In this kind of work tenacity is the key. You can't just presume that life is going to hand you an easy ride, no. I'd think you would understand?" Dunmore called, sloshing forward. "In these works, you're the master of yourself, lad. One can't take shortcuts like in Hogwarts."

After hesitating for a while, Samuel gathered enough caring, to slosh forward. Left foot tried to protest, while the boy skimmed through water to catch up the man. Now coldness and wetness was everywhere but in some masochistically sickening way, Samuel cradled into exasperation.

The cavern started to narrow and the water had risen to the waist. Dunmore lifted the rifle atop of his head, accidentally hitting the ceiling.

"Careful, careful! If that goes off here, we'll both go deaf!"

"It's just for precaution, and rather hearing than life. We'll start with you being the muscle and if things get heated…"

"WAIT! Stop! Look!" Samuel shouted, pointing to the barrel of the gun.

On the tip of its barrel there was thick red oil like substance. With great care Dunmore took a glove from his chest pocket and put it on. He rubbed the substance between his finger tips and examined it.

"Hydra's venom…"

Dunmore lowered the lantern into the water. They saw amongst the rocks red, flower pot sized eggs that had golden grooves around them. They looked at each other and for once, on that day, they could agree on something.

Profit.

4


End file.
